


Grind, Part Two

by fleete



Series: Grind [2]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Collection: Purimgifts Day 3, F/F, Fuck Or Die
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-18
Updated: 2014-03-18
Packaged: 2018-01-16 04:08:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1331362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleete/pseuds/fleete
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part two of ye old Sara/Felicity fuck-or-die fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grind, Part Two

**Author's Note:**

  * For [moriann](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moriann/gifts).



> **content notes** : fuck or die and attending consent issues / dub-con
> 
> This fic was posted in two parts as part of the PurimGifts fest 2014.

_Part two_

 

“Can I turn around?”

Felicity huffs. “You just volunteered to be my sex toy. I think you’re going to have to look at me for that to work.”

Sara turns. Felicity’s skirts hitched up around her hips, her hands limp, palms up, against her thighs. Her pupils are blown and her face resigned.

“You know what’s good about this?” she says. “ I can just say whatever pops into my brain, and it doesn’t matter if my brain goes to a weird sexual place, because we’re already at a weird sexual place.”

Sara allows herself a little smile. “You’re cute.”

Felicity nods, awkward, eyes flitting down and hands pulling at the hem of her dress. “You always say that.”

Sara sits down next to her. “Do I?”

(She does. She totally does, because Felicity is _delightful_ and it just slips out.)

For a second it’s both weirdly normal and unspeakably awkward, the two of them seated next to each other on a couch. Sara’s about to ask her again what she wants when Felicity goes up on her knees next to her.

“Spread your legs some more,” Felicity murmurs without looking at her, and when Sara does, Felicity straddles her right thigh and gingerly rests on it.

“Like this?” Felicty asks, chin tipped down. “Is this okay?”

Sara puts her hands on Felicity’s hips and squeezes gently. “Totally okay. Whatever you need.” 

Felicity’s eyes flicker up to meet Sara’s. “God, I’m never going to be able to look you in the face again.”

Felicity starts off with little movements, rocking against Sara’s leg in precise motions, her pelvis tilting forward and back and rubbing. Her breath catches, loud in Sara’s ear, and she must find some sweet spot, because she pauses to circle her hips there. Her movements are practiced, deliberate, and Felicity braces a hand against Sara’s shoulder, grinding in delicious, lithe movements that make Sara’s ass clench in empathetic pleasure.

And then Felicity stops. Sighs.

“This just isn’t sexy.”

Sara, shamefully, begs to differ.

“I mean,” Felicity rushes to say. “Not that _you’re_ not sexy, because you are, and I don’t know if I’ve ever mentioned it, but I’m kind of bisexual-ish—is that weird to say right now? Oh god, it is—but I work for your boyfriend, and I’m pretty much humping your leg like a dog, and you’re being all noble about it which I appreciate, but it’s just not...”

Sara lets her run out of words, and runs soothing palms up Felicity’s back. Felicity releases a shaky sigh and rests her forehead against the couch behind Sara’s shoulder.

“Oh my god, I’m going to die and my last act will be to hump your leg.”

“You’re not going to die.”

“Think of the headlines! Secretary in Heat Dies Scandalous Death. No, wait, I know.” She straightens up and frames her hands as if setting the type. “Queen Assistant Gets No Happy Ending.”

“You are _not going to die_.”

Sara understands what she’s doing. It’s hard to let go when you’re juggling fear for your life with the embarrassment of first-time intimacy with a friend. Sara herself is desperately trying to balance a pile of thoughts: how best to help Felicity, monitoring her heart rate and breathing, what to do with her own hands, the many ways she is going to maim and discomfit the guy who spiked Felicity’s drink, the guilty throb of her clit between her legs.

But she needs to help Felicity forget everything but getting off.

“Hey,” she says to get Felicity’s attention. When Felicity meets her eyes, Sara leans up, slowly and deliberately, until their lips are just touching. It’s the lightest of kisses, more breath than contact, and Sara feels a thrill run down her spine. “You’re right. This is complicated and awkward and scary. But also? You’re sitting in my lap, and I’m turned on, and I really want to see you come.”

Felicity doesn’t respond immediately, but after a breath, her lips move, tentative, against Sara’s. 

Sara responds, waits, and then, apparently, Felicity is done being shy, pressing her tongue between Sara’s lips and licking artlessly. Sara likes it, though, and is encouraged enough to kiss back in earnest.

“Come on,” she says, and pulls at the leg Felicity has between Sara’s thighs, because Felicity has started to move her hips again, and Sara can think of better ways to do this. “Straddle me.”

Felicity moans something—maybe a yes—and does so, and they’re off, grinding together and sucking at each other’s lips. Their dresses are thin, thin enough that Sara starts to feel the wet between Felicity’s legs heating her skin.

Jerking her hips, Felicity goes after a more aggressive rhythm, and Sara matches her, daring to slide her hands down and dig her fingers into Felicity’s ass. Which turns out to be good instinct, because Felicity groans into Sara’s mouth and cants her hips to the side, finding the angle of Sara’s hip and rubbing jerkily against it.

“I’m—” Felicity goes rigid in Sara’s arms, her fingernails cut into the back of her neck, and all of her sharp breaths swell into a loud, achy-sounding moan.

Sara takes a breath, and then another, reining herself in. She pulls Felicity’s head down into her shoulder and presses two fingers against Felicity’s pulse, just to check.

Her heartrate’s high, but within normalcy. Sara’s neck is hot where Felicity pants against her collarbone.

“You okay?”

“Um.” Felicity giggles. “Feeling a little high right now. But yeah? I think so.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah.”

Sara runs her hands over Felicity’s hair, running her fingers through it and brushing the ends with her thumbs. The frustrated knot of want in her stomach loosens and starts to dissolve.

“Is it okay if I sit here for a minute?”

“Long as you want,” Sara whispers, and hopes, a little selfishly, that it’s a good long while.


End file.
